starry nights and shining armor
by chassecroise
Summary: "I've never liked a boy before you." "Congratulations," says Keith in a flat voice.


In the absence of normal downtime activities like television, books, and the internet, the five paladins of Voltron regularly find themselves with nothing interesting to do, which often leads to extreme boredom. Well, at least for Lance.

Hunk can spend hours in the kitchen concocting new recipes out of alien food goo, Keith practically lives in the training room, Pidge can usually be found sneaking all kinds of Altean tech into her room and tearing it apart, and Shiro doesn't ever talk about what he does in his free time, but unfortunately, all of Lance's hobbies involve the sea, the sun, the beach, or people who get all of his terrible pop culture references.

Almost none of which are available out in the depths of space.

Hunk at least usually understands most of Lance's tv or book references, but not all, even though he tries to humor his friend and pretends that he can relate to them.

Of course, none of this keeps Lance from one of his favorite hobbies: deciding what fictional characters apply to everyone on board. He's done this with Disney characters, reality tv shows, comic book characters, and even book characters, and even though everyone knows that once he gets started on a new round of assignments, he won't shut up about it for hours until he's satisfied, even if they tell him to stop.

Mostly though, they don't. Because secretly, they all find the whole game just as entertaining as Lance does, and they enjoy seeing what characters he likes to assign to them.

Well, everyone except Keith. He's never seemed to get into the concept much, and he seems to hate every character that Lance assigns to him. But Lance figures that probably has to do with the fact that Keith has most likely never spent much time watching television or reading books unrelated to training.

Someday though, Lance will find a character that the king of frown town will actually like. Someday.

* * *

One morning, as soon as he wakes up, Lance is struck with a very interesting new idea that he absolutely needs to share with Keith, so he decides to interrupt the red paladin's first training session of the day to share this crucial information.

He waits until Keith is done with his round to sidle up to him and tap him on the shoulder.

"Hey Keith."

"What?"

"Isn't it funny that I'm the one named Lance, but your bayard is the one with the power to use the giant sword?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying I should be the one with the special sword powers and you should be the leg. Maybe we should swap sometime. After all, I am the one with almost the same name as one of King Arthur's knights. Lancelot. He was pretty good with a sword."

Keith furrows his brows, his irritation growing.

"That's not how it works, Lance."

Lance sucks in some air before exhaling loudly and looking upwards.

"I know, Keith. It was just a joke."

"Well, it wasn't funny. Forming Voltron isn't a joke."

"What? It was hilarious! I think your sense of humor is broken. I'll have you know that I came here first thing after waking up just to share this joke with you. Talk about unappreciative. Someday you'll understand what a comedic gift I have."

"My sense of humor is just fine," retorts Keith with a huff. "Now can I please get back to training?"

"Okay, grumpy."

"I am not grumpy."

"Tell that to the judge."

"What judge?"

"It was—never mind. Enjoy your training session."

* * *

Later, before breakfast, as Hunk is listening to Lance's recap of this conversation while they wait for the others to arrive at the table, he makes a motion to stop his friend from continuing as he processes the information.

"Okay, so wait a minute here. So if either you or Keith are Lancelot, does that make Princess Allura Queen Guinevere?"

"I like the way you think, Hunk! But let's be real, Allura is King Arthur. And Coran is definitely Merlin."

Hunk considers. "So then who's Guinevere?"

The thought comes to both of their minds at the same time. "Maybe Shiro?"

"…Nah."

"Nah."

"I mean, do we really need a Guinevere?"

Hunk shakes his head. "I guess not. Who are the other knights?"

"Beats me. I didn't actually pay attention in English class to the rest of the book we were reading about it. I guess I just like the idea of all of us being knights. We kind of are, you know. The Paladins of the Universe."

"Yeah, I guess so," muses Hunk, as Keith enters the room and sits down in the empty chair next to Lance, wearing his customary scowl.

"Anyway, I guess Sir Keith over here with his fancy hair and fighting skills, he _would_ be a better Lancelot, even though I'm the one with the right name."

"Seriously?! Are you still talking about tha—" starts Keith as Lance suddenly reaches his hand into Keith's hair and lightly strokes it, running his fingers through the silky strands and shocking the red paladin into silence.

"See? Look at it! He might be a mullet head, but the dude has fancy hair. Very movie star, very knight-like."

Lance trails off and drops his hand as he notices the look on Keith's face. It's an expression that he has never seen on his face before, one that is softer and more uncertain.

And for some reason, it makes him slightly nervous.

"Did you just…compliment Keith?" asks Hunk, mildly confused.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're both finally getting along!" chimes in Shiro as he enters the room, followed by Pidge, who looks back and forth appraisingly between Lance and Keith before a knowing smirk slowly spreads across her face.

* * *

Once breakfast is over, the paladins head to the training room for group training, which consists of the usual deadly obstacle course and a particularly intense battle with The Gladiator.

After a full day of drills, exercises, and battle simulations, everyone is ready to throw in the towel—except, Keith, of course, who isn't ready to stop anytime soon. Despite Shiro's reminder that every paladin needs an adequate amount of rest and downtime, he isn't ready to listen, and eventually the others all shrug and file out, too tired and hungry to spend any more time trying to convince Keith to join them.

For some reason, Lance lingers even after the others have left, and Keith watches warily as the cheerful blue paladin walks up to him and grasps his shoulder.

"Come on, rival, let's get dinner. Take a break and come back later!"

"I'm not hungry."

At this, Lance laughs. "I don't blame you. I'm tired of all this space goo. Wish I could get some burgers from the Beach Shack. That was my favorite place. What was your favorite food back on Earth? Wow, that's weird to say out loud. ' _Back on Earth_.' I mean, I know we're out in space, but still."

Keith stares at Lance just long enough to make him start feeling self conscious. It's an odd feeling, one that Lance hasn't felt in a long time, not since eighth grade when he had a crush on Graciela Menendez and she caught him staring at the back of her head in Geometry class. But he doesn't know why he would be feeling that way now. It doesn't really make any sense.

Graciela had long black hair that looked silky and shined in the light. Lance never had a chance to touch it, but he imagines that it probably feels like Keith's hair did when he ran his fingers through it earlier.

He doesn't know why he's thinking about how Keith's hair feels right now, but he does know that Keith is silently looking at him like he's shrunk three feet and turned into an Arusian right now, so he decides to just barrel right through the awkwardness like he usually does when he feels uncomfortable.

"Keith? Buddy? Favorite food?"

For some reason, Keith suddenly flushes pink, and his eyebrows descend downward as he scowls again.

Lance notes that his eyelashes are unusually long. He doesn't know how he's never noticed that before, given that they frame the red paladin's large, dark eyes in a way that's very striking.

"I don't know."

"How do you not know your favorite food?"

"I was always too busy to think about anything like that," says Keith shortly as he drops the training gear and raises an arm to wipe the sweat off his brow before walking past Lance towards the door.

Halfway out the door, he realizes that Lance is still waiting in the middle of the room, and he turns around.

"Are you coming?"

Lance blinks and realizes he hasn't moved.

"Um—yeah."

* * *

At dinner, Lance is back to talking about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table again, rambling endlessly about Lancelot while Keith keeps stealing glances at him and the others are nodding off at the table, too tired to follow his train of thought.

Lance interprets these glances as actual interest in the conversation, and encouraged by the notion, he turns his focus to Keith, growing more and more animated as he waxes poetic about the famous knight and his adventures until Keith bluntly interrupts.

"Lancelot isn't exactly someone you or I should be looking up to. He helped bring down King Arthur's kingdom. King Arthur trusted both him and Guinevere, and they betrayed him in the worst way possible."

"I'm not saying I'm inspired by the choices he made about his personal life, I'm just saying he was a great knight! From the two movies I've seen about Lancelot, he seems like a solid fighter and a good leader."

Keith ignores this and barrels on, oddly insistent on this particular strand of conversation. "He should have found someone else to spend time with. It would have been better for everyone."

Lance scoffs. "Like who? One of the other knights at the round table?"

Keith raises an eyebrow. "Sure. That would be one option."

"So you're saying that King Arthur's kingdom wouldn't have fallen apart if Lancelot had decided to secretly make out with one of the other knights instead of Guinevere?"

Keith shrugs and looks away, suddenly seeming oddly uncomfortable. "Maybe."

Lance stares. "You're right. Your sense of humor isn't broken. It's just really weird."

At this, Keith's cheeks turn bright red and he clenches his fists, and Lance thinks it's because he's angry and he prepares himself to get punched in the face.

So when Keith practically hisses, " _How can you be so clueless?"_ under his breath and stomps away from the table instead, Lance is left surprised, but mostly confused and a little unsettled, and wondering why he can't get the image of Keith's long eyelashes and flushed cheeks out of his head.

* * *

Lance finds Keith standing by one of the large windows, looking out at the stars at unfamiliar constellations.

He's not sure what he's done wrong to make his friend angry at him, but something's compelling him to make it right. He talks a big game about being rivals with Keith, but at the end of the day, he considers him a friend, and he doesn't want things to be awkward between them.

It's odd though; he's had plenty of fights with Hunk before and quickly made up with him, but he's never felt so strange and nervous about making up with someone as he does now.

He takes a deep breath before gently tapping Keith's shoulder.

"Hey, Keith."

"What is it now, Lance?"

"I'm sorry about whatever happened at dinner. I feel like I pissed you off somehow. I don't know what I did, but I don't actually want us to be fighting for real."

Keith doesn't meet his gaze, keeping his eyes on the stars.

Lance marinates in the awkward silence for a few moments before coughing and starting again.

"Soooo...do you like looking at the stars?"

"What do you think?"

Lance chooses to ignore Keith's blunt tone and moves closer to the window so he can see the view as well.

"Well, I love looking at stars. I like that constellation over there. It looks kind of like one of the lions. And that one next to it kind of looks like Rover."

"What? That's supposed to be a sword!"

"No, it's definitely a lion. Can't you see the mane?"

"No."

"Okay, hold on."

Lance moves to stand behind Keith, grasping onto his arm and lifting it up. He's surprised by the amount of warmth emanating from his friend, and as his hair brushes against his cheeks, it almost feels like a kitten's fur, soft and pliant.

"What are you doing?!"

"Hold on! I'm gonna show you something."

He guides Keith's arm in a fluid motion in the air while Keith turns to stare at him in confusion.

"You don't see it?"

"How can I see what you did if you don't tell me what you're doing?"

"I was tracing the pattern of the lion's mane! I'll do it again. Look out the window this time."

Keith says nothing as Lance repeats the motion, though his eyes widen.

Lance smiles. "Do you see it now?"

Keith nods his head slightly, and Lance drops his arm with glee.

"See? I told you it's a lion!"

"I guess so," says Keith, with a small smile.

Lance is relieved that they've moved past the awkwardness. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't want Keith to actually be angry at him.

"Um, so, Keith...do you mind if I ask you something about the whole Lancelot thing?"

And just as suddenly as it disappeared, the strange tension from before returns in full force.

"If you know you're going to ask me anyway, why are you wasting time asking for my permission?"

Lance is taken aback by his sudden forcefulness, and it puts him on edge as well.

"Well excuse me for trying to be a polite gentleman!"

"Can you please get to the point of this conversation?"

" _I'm getting there!_ Anyway, I just wanted to know what you had against the Knights of the Round Table thing. It's just a fun game—why were you taking it so seriously? I mean, usually when I don't like something, I just ignore it and it works pretty well for me."

"That's a terrible way to deal with your problems. And anyway, I don't hate all this talk. I just think you're choosing the wrong role models. And that you're the most clueless person I know."

"How am I clueless? What are you even talking about?"

"See? That's exactly what I mean!"

"I don't see! I don't see what you mean! I don't know what you're even trying to say half the time I'm talking to you!"

"Maybe because you never try to to read between the lines!"

Even though they're both speaking English, Lance feels like Keith is speaking a completely different language, because he has no idea what the man is on about.

"Why do I have to do that? Why can't you just say what you mean?"

"Because it's hard to say. _Because I like—"_ he pauses. "You know what? No. Forget it. Figure it out yourself."

Lance's confusion is only building. Keith has always been a strange bird, but he's never been as hard to understand as he is now. At this point, Lance is going to need a dictionary to comprehend what his rival is trying to say.

"You like what? Being part of Team Voltron? I know that! We all love being part of Team Voltron! That's why we're all here, to save the universe!"

" ** _No_** _,_ " hisses Keith sharply as he pokes Lance's chest with his bony index finger, his gaze igniting. "I. Like. You."

"So. Do. I?" replies Lance hesitantly, unsure of what the red paladin is trying to get at. "I mean, I know we're rivals, but we're also friends, aren't we?"

Keith makes a sound under his breath that can only be described as a strangled growl before grabbing onto Lance's shirt collar and pulling him down until their eyes are level, their lips only millimeters apart.

" _As more than a friend_ ," he whispers fiercely, before shoving him back up with a glare.

" _Since when?!"_ squawks Lance.

"Since I cradled you in my arms? Since we started being friends? Since you started flirting with me? I don't know! But I _thought_ you were beginning to feel the same way, but I guess I was wrong."

"Keith— _buddy_ —I think there's been some sort of misunderstanding here—! I don't—I _don't…_ like you…that…way…"

Even as Lance gasps out the words, he can feel the dishonesty in them swelling into a throbbing puddle underneath his feet. He _does_ like Keith.

He wants to be the other knight to Keith's Lancelot, the one that Keith thinks he should have been with instead of chasing after someone else's queen.

He wants to kiss him under the stars, bathed in the light of an alien moon.

It feels less like a revelation and more like he's being sucked into a black hole, where everything Lance has ever known about himself has been sent beyond the event horizon into oblivion and all he's been left with is an infinitely tiny particle of comprehension that could disappear at any moment.

And by the time the fog finally clears from his eyes, Keith has already stormed away.

* * *

Even though it's probably well past midnight, Lance is too restless to do anything but pace around his room or complain to Hunk, who often stays up late reading cookbooks and engineering manuals.

He chooses to do the latter, and rushes into Hunk's room, where it almost appears as though his friend has been expecting him.

"Hunk, can you please tell me something?"

Hunk smiles graciously, as though he already knows what Lance is going to say, and it puts him on edge.

"Sure, buddy. What is it?"

"Can you please not look at me like that?"

Hunk laughs before trying to rearrange his expression into something more neutral.

"I'm sorry. Is this better?"

Lance sighs. His friend is barely suppressing the smile on his face, but it's obviously the best he can do, so he clenches his fists and looks him right in the eye.

"Do you think I've been flirting with Keith?"

"What kind of a question is that? You flirt with literally everything that moves except Coran, Shiro, Pidge, and me."

"That's almost everyone on this ship except for two people."

Hunk nods. "Exactly. Wait—are you telling me that you weren't flirting with Keith on purpose?"

"Why would I be flirting with him on purpose?! He's my rival!"

The infuriating smile is back on Hunk's face as he responds.

"I don't know, man. At breakfast you were like, massaging his head and telling us he looks like a movie star."

"It was just a friendly gesture! I was trying to make a point! A friend thing!"

"Pretty erotic for just a friend thing. Didn't you see how red his face got? It was almost the same color as his lion. And you're telling me you didn't do it on purpose?"

Lance sputters indignantly and shakes his head. "I—I—no! Not at all!"

"You know, it's okay if you like him," says Hunk, patting his shoulder. "I have a feeling he feels the same way about you."

"He does. He told me right before I came here."

"It just makes sense, you know? I always had a feeling there might be more going on with the two of you than meets the eye."

Hunk pauses as he realizes what Lance has just revealed.

"Wait—wait—did you just say that Keith confessed to you right before you came here? Why didn't you lead with that?!"

"But Hunk—I—I never meant to—I mean, yeah, he's good looking, and he's a great fighter, and he really does have perfect hair, and okay, I haven't told anyone this but lately when I look at him it makes me _feel_ things...and I think I really do like him. Shit...I think I actually want to date him. I actually _want_ to be mullet head's boyfriend. I want him to be _my_ boyfriend."

"So then what's the problem?"

"I don't know what to do, Hunk. I've only had one real girlfriend and that was when we were twelve. How do I even date another dude? I can't buy him flowers."

"Why not? Maybe Keith likes flowers!"

"You like flowers, Hunk. And you know I love you, but I don't want to date you. And anyway, Keith doesn't like anything."

"He likes _you_."

"You know what I mean."

"I think you're overthinking this. You don't have to do anything differently around Keith. You can act the same way around him as you always have. You've been flirting with him nonstop lately anyway."

"You make it sound so easy."

Hunk shrugs. "It should be, for you. Aren't you the best flirt in the universe? Or were you lying about that at dinner last night?"

"Of course I wasn't lying! I _am_ the best flirt in the universe. Hands down the best."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"Damnit, Hunk, it can't be that simple."

"I think it is~!" responds Hunk in a singsong voice, and deep down inside, Lance knows his friend is right.

He spends the rest of the night sleepless and restless, trying to find the right words to say to express something that he has only just realized, a revelation that once spoken, will take him into a new frontier that he's a little afraid of—but one he's almost ready to face.

* * *

The next morning, Keith finds his first training session interrupted once again by the lanky blue paladin with an infuriatingly smug smile and oddly charming demeanor, though today, he's subdued, with bloodshot eyes and pale lips, his customary swagger dampened.

Keith sighs as he approaches. "What do you want, Lance?"

"I just had something I wanted to say."

"So say it."

Lance approaches, his voice low and tense as he looks to the ground, unable to meet Keith's eyes, even though they're only standing a few inches apart.

He's rehearsed this at least a hundred times over the past three hours. Why is this so hard? Is it because it's not a pickup line? Is it because he's so afraid of screwing it up?

Lance curls his hands into tight fists and sighs before forcing himself to look up at Keith.

As he looks at the red paladin's infuriatingly beautiful eyes, anger unspools like a lick of fire in his stomach. Why _can't_ he do this? He already knows that mullet head likes him back. A confession should be a piece of cake. He should be confident, not nervous.

He takes a big breath to prepare himself for the words he's practiced, but they spill out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

"I've never liked a boy before you."

"Congratulations," says Keith in a flat voice.

"Come on, man, this is kind of a revelation for me. I don't know how this happened. Work with me here!"

"What, just like you worked with me when I told you I liked you yesterday?"

"Come on, man, I was maxed out! I was not ready for a sudden confession like that. You ambushed me!"

"You were the one who came and found me by the window. You were the one who watched the stars with me. _You stroked my hair_."

"Man, _why won't anyone let that go_?"

Keith raises an eyebrow, and if he didn't know any better, Lance would swear that he was almost smiling.

But Keith doesn't smile.

Then again, Keith doesn't do things like lightly lace his fingers through Lance's while looking up at him with a softly questioning look in his eyes, either.

And Keith definitely doesn't do things like closing the gap between them, moving closer and closer to Lance with every heartbeat.

And he absolutely doesn't do things like cup the curve of Lance's cheek with one hand as he leans upward, eyes slowly fluttering shut.

So perhaps Lance can be forgiven for squeaking like a mouse when Keith leans up to kiss him, completely unprepared for the rush of sensations flooding through his body, sending every nerve ending into overdrive as their lips touch.

At the sound, Keith pulls away immediately, confused and baffled until he sees the mortified look on Lance's face and bursts into laughter.

"What was that?!"

"I—I—that—that doesn't count as our first kiss! I take it back!"

" _You can't do th_ —" starts Keith as Lance barrels into him and knocks him to the ground, pressing his lips and his body against him with more conviction than anything he's ever done in his life, hungry and impatient for his touch in a way that surprises both of them.

Lance knows nothing but feels everything and he's crashing and cresting and flying so high that he never wants to come down—he wants to stay here, with Keith, breathing raggedly and enjoying the sensation of his lips, so chapped but soft, exploring every part of his face.

He wants to be closer, closer, _closer_ —in an infinite universe where Lance sometimes feels so small as to be almost inconsequential as a grain of sand, nothing has ever felt so real and meaningful as the feeling of the sharp edges of Keith's hips pressing through his sweat drenched shirt against his skin.

Perhaps it's for several hours or perhaps only a few minutes—time is meaningless, after all, in the depths of space—they're lost in each other, and it's only when Shiro calls them to breakfast that the moment ends.

* * *

Being a defender of the universe, a knight in shining armor, is great in theory; but not so much when it also means leaving home behind—possibly forever.

Lance doesn't know when he's going to see the sea again; he doesn't know when he's going to walk on a beach and feel the sand between his toes as the sun sinks behind the horizon, and he doesn't know if he's ever going to get the chance to see another movie in a movie theater, eating buttery popcorn and listening to his sisters complain about his terrible taste in films.

It's tough for him to come to terms with this, but at least he has a place to call home, which is more than Keith can say.

But Lance is sure as hell going to try to make that happen. He read in a book once that home can be a person; it doesn't have to be a place, and if Keith doesn't have any pleasant memories of the past or a place to call home, Lance is going to do his best to make sure that Keith understands that he will always be there for him, no matter what—no matter what happens now or in the future.

* * *

Lance's fingers are tangled in Keith's perfect hair, too soft and shiny to be real. He doesn't know what fascinates him so much about it; it's odd, perhaps, that he's so drawn to it. Maybe it's because it's the only part of Keith that's outwardly soft, the only thing that can't be covered by his stern facade.

Lance stops and drops his hand as he notices the light smirk on Keith's face.

"What is it with you and my hair, anyway?"

"Um," replies Lance intelligently. "It's shiny?"

"And you never shut up about my fighting skills. I think you're a little obsessed."

"You're my rival, I have to keep track of everything you do."

"Sure. Anyway, I know this is probably hard for you to understand, but those are probably some of the reasons why you like me, since you seemed confused," concludes Keith, with seemingly infinite patience that somehow still sounds sarcastic.

"I can't decide whether I'd rather punch you right now or kiss you."

"I think you know the answer to that."

"You're right, but don't get used to it. You're still my rival," says Lance, crossing his arms.

Keith snorts. "Is "Rival" going to be your pet name for me now?"

"Hey! Only I get to decide stuff like that. And yes, maybe it _will_ be my nickname for you. I kind of like how it sounds."

"I wonder what I should call you. Maybe Squeak."

" _Squeak?_ Why Squeak?!"

"I'm never going to forget that sound you made. You sounded like one of Allura's mice."

"Why am I even into you?" hums Lance.

"I've been asking myself the same question," murmurs Keith, leaning forward so their foreheads touch.

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Make me," whispers Keith.

And he does.


End file.
